An Open Letter to Whom I Once Admired

"To my fans and friends: I'm finally being honest with myself. I love you all."

    If you've spent anytime on the internet in the last week, you've probably seen that sentence once or twice. It was the beginning of what some think is a huge breakthrough for Christian culture, and others think is another step deeper into a mucky rut. To a girl who looked up to the writer of those words and his band for years in a crucial time of her life, it was nothing short of a time-stopper.

Anyone who grew up in a conservative Christian home knows the core fundamental beliefs of the evangelical church almost as well as they know their own name. In 3rd grade they could probably name every commandment (in order), quote all of Psalm 23 without skipping a beat, tell you exactly what you would need to do to be saved, and answer any question you might have about creation or Noah's ark. If they were one of the more advanced kids, they could probably explain the whole 'death of the firstborn' plague and passover, and why men have one less rib than women. These kids, at some point in their upbringing, were also taught the truth about the confusing topic of why 'some men love men and women love women'. Maybe these kids grew up to disagree at some point, maybe they stuck to what they've always known, or maybe they are still questioning how to feel about it all. I'm one of those kids who stuck to it.

Everyday Sunday was one of the very first bands in the Christian music scene that I discovered. If you know me at all, you know that Christian music plays a part in 95% of my day-to-day life, career, and future plans; it seems to be the clock that keeps my heart ticking. I listened to them almost religiously, would binge-watch videos of them on YouTube, and even talked to them on the phone one time (and definitely hopped around my living room, excitedly squealing afterwards). I was a fan, a supporter, and, of course, a young admirer. Why wouldn't an elementary-middle school girl look up to a band of guys that sing about, talk about, and live for Jesus and make it look super cool and "in"?

Within a decently small amount of time, the band parted ways for unknown reasons. The lead vocalist and his brother continued it for a season, and then that ended. The lead vocalist started another band that I still haven't heard to this day, and also planned an Everyday Sunday tour, but then that never happened. Everything was ending quickly without explanation and soon enough all I saw were status updates, tweets, and Instagram photos from the Everyday Sunday crew. With Christian music constantly growing and expanding, I was left thinking that things just weren't happening for the band anymore, so they decided to called it quits. But in reality, a whole different world was taking shape.

Trey Pearson.
The voice behind the music. The most familiar face. One of my past role models. The one who pridefully unveiled his 'real' identity to the world.
You are deeply, passionately, unconditionally, madly loved by the same God you sang about years ago and still claim as yours today. He has gifted you and made plans for you that exceed your comprehension and wildest dreams. But from a girl that will always admire you in some way deep down for being a positive voice in her youth and being apart of the strong force of music in her life, my heart is aching. Not for the band, not for me, but for you. For your family. For our world. For those who will see Christians falsely due to your statements. We both know the truth, we both know what He said. That hasn't changed. But He doesn't hate you the way that you were always taught He does. He loves you so fiercely that He doesn't want you to stay where you are, He wants you to be the best version of you that you can be. The one He created you to be. And I pray that you become that version of you.

We might disagree on a lot of things at this point, but I love you and pray for you with everything in me. I pray for your wife, your kids, and the people you're impacting by making such a loud statement. I pray that God touches your heart and you follow where He leads you, even if that means taking a few steps back and feeling the weight of regret. I believe with every ounce of my being that this isn't who He created you to be, but I know you have that person somewhere deep inside of you, beyond the deceptive false identity you've been fed.

From the girl who has admired you since the beginning, and still believes in God's unfailing plan beyond this uproar and false you...

You are more.

#LoveWins

When the news broke today that the Supreme Court had come to a long awaited decision on a burning topic in today's culture, my first reaction was to roll my eyes, let out a less-than-shocked sigh, mumble a sarcastic, "Who woulda thought," and take a 24-hour hiatus from social media. My second reaction was to internally grieve for myself and all of the repetitive conversations about it that I would have to sit through for the next 3 months.

My first reaction lasted a minimum of 5 seconds before I broke and started scrolling through social media feeds to read the mixed opinions. Some were joyfully celebrating, some were bitterly complaining, and some were just relieved that the whole thing was over. It then took a minimum of 10 seconds to see that 97% of the world had to write a long, wordy Facebook status or Twitlonger to explain their standpoint. There was an endless stream of bickering between love and hate, but at the end of all the commotion, #LoveWins was trending Worldwide on Twitter and #HateWins was not.

I've never been one to publicly state my personal opinion on political and cultural subjects such as this in any form on the internet, but I happily plan out what I would say if I were to do such a thing in my head. From what words to italicize to a punch-in-the-face closing thought, I think of every single thing I would do to possibly get a point across without asking for too much negative feedback or a welcome-to-the-close-minded-club pat on the shoulder from fellow Christians. I did that same exact thing with this blog here. But then I realized that when it comes to opinion, a happy medium is nearly impossible.

So here I am with millions, billions, and trillions of words shaking through my brain, trying to figure out how to share my honest feelings towards the #LoveWins, craze and still have all of my friends by the end of it.

     The reigns are no longer in our hands, Christians. In fact, they never were in the first place. We want control and we want things to go our way, but we don't want to really dig deep and fight for it. One moment we're praying for a chance to make a difference, and the next moment we're throwing out our white flags with words of dread pouring from our mouths. All because it seems like we've lost a fight that we never even fought for. If we give up and get angry and toss around cruel words because the world acted like the world, we've missed the point. The world made another decision that we shouldn't be surprised by, but what truly matters is how we react to it.

We've been handed a giant opportunity to shake up the universe. This is our moment to love deeper and greater than ever before, and do it in a way that can't be ignored. Love does win. But the Love that wins is one they've yet to see and one they don't understand. It's one that we don't even thoroughly understand. It's the Love that doesn't have to be voted on or fought for or talked about until everyone is tired of it; it's the Love that is always there and never waivers or fails. Let's lift it high and live it loud, my friends.

Here's a proposal and challenge to you, Christians, and myself: let's start a movement. Let's give them intense, burning, radiant love. Not the love they want, but the Love they need. Let's not be known for what we hate, but what our hearts desire; Love Himself. Let's be known for the Love that breaks through the darkest nights, and sets even the most bound-up captives free. Let's be like that city on a hill, not the negative comments on a Facebook status. Let's hug when we want to hide. Let's run forward when we want to retreat. Let's fight like our lives depend on it... because truly they do.

Oh, how different life would be if instead of holding up cardboard signs with angry words and vengeful spirits, we held up each other with compassion, truth, and tranquility.

Maybe we've messed up and missed our chances before, but every day holds the potential for the impossible. This here, this historic day, is our day. It's time to live like it.

"To love someone means to see him as God intended him." -Fyodor Dostoevsky

His.

Valentine's Day.
A day when chocolate and flowers are the perfect match, hugs and kisses are commonly expected, couples show extra affection to each other through printed words on card-stock, and singles wallow in self-pity as another year goes by without someone to make them feel important. This is the day that love is put on the forefront, and shared through words of all kind.

There's a snowstorm tearing through my corner of the world tomorrow, leading churches to cancel their morning worship for the second week in a row. My church is being the minority; the members are passionate about being in this building, and couldn't stand to let weather push us away again. So their solution? Saturday morning service.

As I think up the words for this blog and put together bullet points for it, I'm sitting in the oak sound-booth (also referred to as "The Box" by fellow church attendants) in the back corner of my little church. My dad, my pastor, is speaking on discipleship and sharing your faith.

It's Valentine's Day.

While I sit here listening to my dad preach the word of God, examining all of the red pieces of apparel in front of me, and putting together a 'love' playlist for the end of service, my heart feels as heavy as a brick. Before the service started, a lady from our congregation stopped by my little box to greet me, wish me a Happy Valentine's Day, and ask me about my week. After the typical, "you too," "I've been good," and "thanks," all rung out of my mouth as if they were a routine, the weight of my heart spilled out.

"It bothers me that we're all here for church, and there's so many people making plans to see a movie about false love."

False love.

I don't need to say the movie title that was swirling through my mind for you to know what I'm talking about. It's already taking over your Facebook news feed, Twitter timelines, and Instagram feed. You probably knew that this blog was going to at least mention it before you even got past the first paragraph.

I'm seventeen.
What do I know about love?
How is it right for me to have an opinion on this book/movie franchise when I've never even had a boyfriend?
Why am I even bothering to write this when there's so many other great blogs that explicitly describe why this franchise is so heartbreakingly objectionable?

Respect and Honor.

This morning I put on a cute outfit, painted my face, put mouse in my hair to bring out its curliness, and threw on my everyday jewelry. A normal Sunday morning routine (but on a Saturday). I grabbed a yogurt and some coffee, the church's laptop, slid on boots and a matching jacket, and headed out the door, across the parking lot to the small, white church on the other side. Snow crunched under my feet, a light breeze sent shivers down my spine, and my still-damp hair added the extra chill that reminded me why I so longed for the green grass hidden under the countless feet of white.

After a bitterly cold walk to the cute building, I stepped inside, and found my way to my "box." I made over the cute, love-themed bulletins and took a seat in my spinny chair, before looking down at my hands.

Respect and Honor.

The words were sprawled across the black fabric that was wrapped around my right wrist, waiting for me to notice them.

"This is love."

Those were the words that rushed to my mind at the sight of my bracelet.

Love isn't chocolate and flowers.
Love isn't emotionless words in a card.
Love isn't sporadic hugs and kisses.
Love isn't an erotic, violent story shown through a book or movie.

Love isn't a word or a store-bought item; love is an action that trickles down through the hearts of man to turn eyes upon Love Himself.

Love shows respect and honor, not abuse and dominance; love gives life and joy, not pain and fear. Love began with a Man giving up His life so others could love and be loved. Death for His beloved. Death for you, death for me.

His beloved.

On this Valentine's Day, keep your sights set on the only true Love. In your relationship or in your singleness, Love is waiting with His arms wide open. This Love is free, real, and all you need on this day and every day.

Be His.

Voiceless Vocabulary.

As you all (hopefully) know, I go to concerts a lot. I work for a promoter, The Lighthouse Events, and a website called NewReleaseTuesday. Between the two of those, my life is surrounded by Christian music and concerts. Every show I go to has something new and unique about it; the venue, audience, crew, sometimes just the artists, catering, stage layout, meet & greet/signing, or even some of the volunteers there. The things that go into making a show happen include a large array of personalities, talents, hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, and months of preparation. It all leads up to a small gap of down time the afternoon of show day before the doors open, and then what is hoped to be a successful concert.

The last show I went to was on Wednesday, the fourteenth with American Idol alum, Danny Gokey. There was a lot of hype around it for me because I watched this guy audition six years ago and he was my favorite up until the end when he snagged third place. I followed his career after American Idol up until there was somewhat of a lull between his album 'My Best Days' and the first single off his newest album, 'Hope In Front of Me.' So the chance of seeing Danny was exciting. Six years ago, I never thought he would end up in Christian music and booking a show with the promoter I would someday work for.

I arrived at the performing arts center at the designated time, awkwardly changed my entire outfit in my family's mini van, and helped the two person crew set up the stage a little bit, including crawling around and taping cords to the floor. The afternoon was quiet with the few volunteers, small crew, and promoter's family all spread out through the building. I was sitting on travel cases backstage and chatting with some friends when I started hearing, "Our American Idol is here!" We all made our way outside into the freezing, 20 degree weather to the van so we could help unload the band's luggage, and get them to their green room.

Everything and everyone was inside in just a few short minutes, and after helping with Danny's confusion about thinking a supply closet was the green room and hearing the promoter ask his wife to grab some throat coat tea for Danny, things went back to normal.

After a few hours, some run-ins with the band and Danny, searching the building for a band-aid because of injuring myself, and an energetic soundcheck later, the doors were opening and people started arriving in the auditorium with Taylor Swift filling the space. (Yes, there was totally dancing when Shake It Off played, don't worry.)

The show began and ended without any big problems (aside from the typical clumsiness of the photographer...). There was lots of laughter, dancing, some tears, singing along, and moments of worship. Soon after, the lobby was suddenly booming with people in line to meet Danny. The first thing the promoter said when he walked out into the busy lobby with Danny was, "Danny's not allowed to talk tonight! You can talk to him, but he can't talk back."

Ah yes, the dreaded vocal rest.

A few 'aww's followed but the signing went on, and the line started going by the table where fans got an autograph and picture. And that's where the point of this blog comes in.

Voiceless Danny still greeted everyone sweetly and did the best he could to interact and make sure everyone felt appreciated. He gave hugs, smiles, silent words of gratitude, and did far more without a voice than I can with one. People were walking by me to leave, saying how truly down-to-earth and kind Danny was... and they didn't even talk to him. That, my friends, is so incredibly admirable. Portraying a genuine heart without words proves how genuine it actually is.

That amount of time with Danny was further evidence that actions speak louder than words no matter what the situation is. It's a lesson you're taught from day one, but when you really give it thought, it's a lesson for every age that just keeps on teaching. If my words make me out to be a fake, I'm not doing it right. Same for you. But if my words give just a glimpse at my heart, I'm on the right track.

Here's a challenge for you and I both, friends: let's work on our hearts more than our words. In the end, our voices are only vessels.

Danny did talk after the show... just for NewReleaseTuesday! Check out the video here

You can also view my photos from the show on Facebook or in HQ on Flickr

Twitter: @kyork97 | Instagram: @kristynyork | Facebook: facebook.com/kyorkphotography // facebook.com/kristynyork

2014.

If you haven't noticed by now, I'm bad with words. In face-to-face conversations, through all forms of virtual interaction, in letters, and, yes, through this lovely little blog. I've typed out countless blogs just to follow up by clicking the 'delete' button, and hanging my head in shame of the stupid words that flowed from my fingertips. Every blog I've posted, I cringe whenever I go back and read the messy vocabulary and disoriented thoughts. They seem over-dramatic, brainless, and pointless in my mind. Because I'm bad with words. And my awkwardness doesn't help the cause.

Due to the lack of confidence in my writing/ranting skills, I fell into the worst writer's block I've ever experienced. But, of course, after months of said writer's block beginning, my mind stirred up something to bring the year to an end. It will probably be just as messy as my other blogs, but here's to going through with it and blabbering anyway.

As the New Year will ring in, in just a couple days, my brain has been working overtime, going through the events of 2014. This year was far from what I ever expected it to be, but exactly what I didn't know I needed it to be. So, to reminisce on all that happened, I've put together a list of the things I learned these last 12 months - good and bad. Here's what I came up with...

• Reading a whole book in one day is good for the mind.
• If I'm comfortable where I am, I shouldn't get too used to it because it will change.
• God will get to me in anyway He needs to.
• Trying to ignore the harshness of reality and live in a fantasy usually leaves me gasping for more.
• I can brush some things off my shoulder because they're not worth anything more.
• Some friendships aren't worth fighting for.
• Crying isn't something to be ashamed of.
• Denny's at midnight is the last place to be with a cold.
• Walls are made to fall down.
• God will always mend the broken pieces.
• Music really is good for the soul.
• It's not about the experience, it's about the lesson learned.
• Anything is fun with a California Sunshine and New Hampshire Sister.
• God replaces my definition of good with His definition of good if I let Him.
• Sometimes I have to go for a long ride in a "swagtastic" van and talk about the incredibleness of God and the sky and all the little things.
• Sometimes I have to pour out my heartache in that same van.
• Being barefoot as much as possible is good.
• Everything is perfect in His timing.
• Sitting on the floor and listening to friends jam is all I need at times to turn my week around.
• Taking life too seriously is harmful to my perspective.
• Nothing I do on this earth matters if it doesn't have an impact on eternity.
• It's not always a bad thing to fall in love with a Cucumber.
• When I'm all alone at a freezing outdoor concert to see friends, the amazing parents of a couple band members will bring me hot chocolate.
• Being myself doesn't push away the people God wants in my life.
• I am His Cathedral.
• Even people that work for a Christian music website with me and live light years away can be some of my greatest friends and support system.
• I don't have to try so hard.
• Worship isn't scheduled.
• I'm not in control of my own life, and that's more than alright.
• There's absolutely nothing wrong with dancing at a concert in a college chapel with your friends.
• The problems of others greatly exceed mine.
• There's beauty in sticky, hot, summer days, with the addition of an aggressive thunderstorm, at a camp in the middle of nowhere.
• Stepping back and taking a breath is okay.
• Laughter and joy is necessary.
• The fear of judgement controls me.
• Sporadic conversations in a makeshift recording studio/shed can refresh my spirit.
• Bonfires are friendship-makers.
• Some people love me for me and they are the ones who matter.
• Selfies are good.
• Sitting in the grass and listening to local bluegrass bands with one of your best friends brings a feeling of belonging.
• An emoji, or lack of, doesn't prove someone's like or dislike of me.
• Loving people is everything.
• I want to know Jesus more than anything.
• He'll lead me where I belong.
• Everything will be okay.

2014, you'll be hard to beat, but I'm hoping 2015 is a good competition.

"The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." -C.S. Lewis

Where The Grass Withers.

                                                                                                                                    (Photo of me by Rachael Keyes)

It's a rare occurrence for me to sit around at a festival. I'm always running all over the place to get to the different stages and interviews, looking for my group of friends, trying to find the cheapest water, accidentally sneaking into artist catering, or taking a breather for a few minutes to post to social media by talking to a musician friend in a random merch tent. I have moments where even in the big crowds I feel more alone than I ever have in my entire life. I'm on the brink of crying too many times because my mind can't quiet down long enough to stay sane in a place where happiness isn't hard to come by. I feel so excited but so stressed at the same time.

To be honest, this was at just one festival... and it was just over a week ago. The festival had me all over the place and by the end of it, I felt like a zombie. The professional side of me expected it, but the fan side of me wished for more time to hangout and take it easy, and enjoy one of my favorite places on earth in a more carefree way. I had the time of my life listening to the music, seeing one of my favorite bands, and being with friends here and there, but it seems like the bad outweighs the good in my mind. I needed a long break after it all, to say the least.

Three days ago I went to a local bluegrass festival that a family I'm friends with started. I knew I would have fun because of the people there, but my main motive for going was to just get out and maybe practice my photography more; having fun wasn't a priority.
It was located in a big, grass-covered field down a long, winding road in the heart of a town that I've only visited a handful of times. The stage looked like the side of a barn with instruments hanging off the back wall and around 20 feet away was a large tent with lawn chairs filling the interior where the audience would spend their day. I took my camera and had all intentions of continuing the busy feeling that I had the week before, but I actually ended up leaving it in the car, saying that I would go back after lunch and get it.

My friend and I spread out a soft blanket that she made on the grass, right at the edge of the tent where we would be front and center for the shows, and planned on staying there through the events of the day. If it rained we would be covered, but the sun could still reach us enough to keep my love for summer in place. Not long after we made our home on the blanket, another friend joined us and we began talking nonstop like girls do so well. A band that I can't recall listening to very much was playing not far off in front of us, but our chatter blocked out whatever was happening. All I can remember of this band was that they went from playing an old hymn to singing about a wanting a woman. (I'm pretty sure that I said, "Bluegrass music is weird," at least a billion times that day.)

I've always had a habit of plucking out the grass around me when I'm sitting on the ground. Maybe it's a nervous habit, maybe it's just to keep myself busy. Whatever it is, I do it all the time no matter where I am or who I'm with. So, though we were sitting on a blanket, I had my hands over the side, constantly plucking out needles of grass and then dropping them off to the side. Through the conversing, music, and just about everything else going on, the grass around me would always be getting the blunt of the madness going on in my mind.

My friends noticed the habit and went on to explain that if you pull a piece of grass with the right amount of tension, instead of just breaking, it will smoothly slide out of the root without snapping in half. It sometimes would tear a little bit and seem weaker by the time you go it out, but it would be whole. Every part of it was there and still holding together. So, of course, instead of viciously yanking at the grass, after that I spent my time seeing how many needles of grass I could pull out of the ground in one piece.

One-by-one, I tried and failed. With one success came at least ten failures. Sometimes I would even tear up the whole root by accident, dragging along the dirt and messy side of the grass that no one sees, but then I would toss it and start again.

As I stared down at the bright green color, some words fought through the circus of my mind and stumbled out of my lips into the noise of the festival... "This would make a good analogy."

To my relief, the one friend that heard it agreed and said that they were thinking the same thing, so I went ahead and briefly explained what I meant. And now, after days of thinking about it more than I needed to, I'm about to compare life to the grass in the field of a bluegrass festival in Maine.

When we rely on other people to get us out of hard times, troubles, heartache, and despair, more than not, we end up being viciously broken in half and thrown away. Left torn in two where we can be kicked around and stepped on by others that pass by. Our source of strength, safety, and life are left behind, stuck in the deeply rooted problems. Even the people that try so hard to be careful can accidentally ruin it in the end. And it's not just other people; I will be the first to admit that I've done the same thing to myself. Whenever I think I can do things on my own because I should be strong enough, I fail. I'm either left where I was before but with less vibrancy and life, or I wither away to nothing.

With God, things are so different. He knows exactly how to fix us. He pulls us through with just enough tension that we get out in one piece, even if we have a few tears and flaws. We're hurt but not broken; weak but not destroyed. Sometimes a bit of the dirt and mess of our problems that no one sees are pulled through with us, but God brushes us off over time and cleanses us of our pain. He holds us in His hands and cares for us, keeping us safe and whole. Then, when we're ready, He takes us with our clean roots and plants us in a new field and gives us a chance to grow again. He waters us with His love and mercy, and shines down on us in brilliant light.

I spent the whole day at this festival trying to comprehend my own thoughts. By the time I figured out that I was the grass, the sun was sleeping and I had moved from our spot under the tent to the cold ground halfway between the tent and stage. I was huddled under blankets with a big group of the people that made my day fun as we bid farewell to the festival by cheering on two of our friends that were ending it all with their sweet music. The ongoing stress from the days so near in the past seemed to subside from my mind and the break that I so needed was found in the joy of the little things around me on a cool summer night.

"The Bible tells us that God will meet all our needs. He feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grass with the splendor of lilies. How much more, then, will He care for us, who are made in His image? Our only concern is to obey the heavenly Father and leave the consequences to Him." -Charles Stanley

The Dirty, Muddy, Torn-up Doormat.

                                                                                                                                             (Photo from tumblr.com)

I like to think I'm good at a lot of things. Things that I'm really terrible at. Like listening with every part of me when a friend is talking, always centering my life around God completely, praying about anything and everything, putting others before myself, being optimistic, being the perfect pastor's kid, and the list goes on. I'm really terrible at the stuff that a "good" Christian should rock at.

But there is one specific thing I'm really good at... letting the words of other's destroy me.

There's no doubt that you should take what others say and give it some thought. Not doing so would be pretty careless, cruel and arrogant in my book. That is, if the words spoken are out of concern or love. I cherish opinions and advice from people that have the right hearts; I know that their words will more than likely improve my character in some way.

And then on the other hand, we find the fine line between thinking about what others say and living what others say. I like to call these people doormats.

A doormat is someone that let's others say what they want, do what they want, and all the like, and they just take it. People walk on them like a doormat. It's like you're there saying, "No, it's fine, I'll just brush off all of the dirt later," and that dirt is the harsh words they throw on you over time. And here's a confession...

I am a dirty, muddy, torn-up doormat.

My edges are frayed and unraveling, heaving into a slight roll from the wear and tear; my exterior is roughly torn and scratched from the constant sweeping of feet and dirt upon me; filth is impacted and matted into my being from the lack of TLC and proper cleansing; I'm wearing thin. The dirt shed on me is never turned over to the One that can properly cleanse me and make me new because the feet spreading the destruction are never turned away. This rotting doormat keeps welcoming them.

To make a long story short, I let people control me far too often. If I think it will make them happy, I sacrifice my own joy to keep myself free from confrontation and conflict. Sure, it makes sense. But sometimes God wants us to experience that joy and push aside the harmful words that make us inflict suffering on ourselves by sacrificing it.

I'm writing this because just yesterday I let another person's words tear me apart so badly that I almost gave up a giant opportunity that I have been wanting for years. Just because someone was too selfish to be happy for me. And as hard as it is to say that, it's sometimes okay to want people to be happy for you. It gives you a much needed boost of self-approval that everyone needs here and there.

So in closing... get off the floor, go to the One who can fix you and heal you, and stop being a doormat. Joy is too precious to give up for the people that boast in your weakness. You need to boast in your weakness because you know that He will make you strong.